


Mass in B Minor

by Pun



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Kisses in the rain, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-14
Updated: 2010-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-13 16:30:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/139345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pun/pseuds/Pun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The rain on Mythonszark-6 is green, which means that Jim cannot tell how much or where Spock is bleeding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mass in B Minor

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my own "Kisses in the Rain" ficathon. Many, many thanks to the lovely Caro for beta.

The rain on Mythonszark-6 is green, which means that Jim can't tell--he fucking cannot tell how much or where Spock is bleeding. "A lot" and "all over" the panicked part of his brain supplies, but Jim knows that most of what he's seeing is just rain water as he tugs Spock's uniform shirt from his pants and lifts it up to reveal the ugly green gash in his side--his left side, thankfully, so he will probably live, if Jim can only stop the bleeding.

Jim uses his knife to cut Spock's shirt off of him and then begins tearing it into strips. The thick material that Spock has custom tailored for his uniforms is sodden and spongy in his hands, sending green rivulets trickling down his fingers and wrists as it tears. Jim's stomach flips over even though he knows most of it is only rain.

Spock's eyes, which haven't left Jim's face since the moment when the fighting stopped, and Jim dropped to his knees beside him, flick briefly down to his wound. When he looks at Jim again he says, "As I have so often told you, Captain, a crude weapon can be just as effective as our more technologically sophisticated armaments."

There's the slightest extra pause between each word that to anyone else would sound like Spock's usual measured tone, but Jim can tell the difference and knows just how brutal the effort is for Spock to get the words out.

True that the Mythonszarkians had gotten one lucky shot in with their damned barbed javelin-type thingamajigs, but Jim's phaser had taken them all out pretty quickly after that. But Spock is swallowing now, his throat working up and down, twice, three times, and that's his other tell when he's under extreme duress, so Jim doesn't much feel like arguing the point. Besides, if it ends up killing Spock, it won't much matter if it was a flint arrowhead or an Altiphlonian tripple-powered cell blaster.

"Keep talking to me," Jim says. He maneuvers around Spock, trying to put his knees down only in the puddles he thinks are rain and avoid the ones he thinks are blood in what Spock would characterize as a completely illogical impulse. His illogical human emotions also make him wish that his phaser hadn't been quite so effective, that he could have gotten at least one old-fashioned punch in and felt the satisfying crunch of bone under his fist. He doesn't need Spock to tell him how stupid that is or that he should be careful what he wishes for as there might be more Mythonszarkians coming for them any second.

Between the forrest's dense foliage and the rain, he can't see or hear more than a few feet around them, and Jim knows he needs to work quickly.

"Of what do you wish me to speak?" Spock gasps at the end as Jim levers him up so that he's sitting with his back against Jim's chest.

Jim's heart is beating so fast and so loudly in his ears that he can barely hear his own voice let alone Spock's, but he says the first thing he thinks of: "Tell me about your mother."

He wishes it back as soon as he's said it, but Spock's muscles relax a bit against him as he says, "She is very kind." Spock goes immediately rigid again, though his voice doesn't change when he corrects himself, " _Was_ very kind. I have an illogical difficulty in thinking of her in the appropriate tense."

Jim frowns in sympathy, but there's no time for pity. "That's okay," he says. "Keep going." Jim begins to wrap his makeshift bandages around Spock's body. Spock's skin is damp and chilled except where Jim's fingertips brush against his wound.

"She loved music," Spock says. "The classical Terran composer Bach was her favorite."

Jim finishes binding the wound. The cloth is too wet to absorb any blood, but hopefully he's made it tight enough to at least slow the bleeding. He eases out from behind Spock who slumps forward a bit but manages to stay sitting upright.

A quick walk around the perimeter of the clearing doesn't tell Jim much, but all appears to be quiet. He's all too aware of how obliviously they walked into the first ambush, but he doesn't see much choice other than to try to make it back to their shuttle and rendezvous with the Enterprise.

His wet muddy pants cling to his legs and resist as he crouches down beside Spock who is still slumped where Jim left him. The rain is running down his cheeks, making it look like he is crying blood. Jim knows it's an illusion. He doubts Vulcans even have tear ducts, but it bothers him. He reaches out and uses the back of his hand to wipe the moisture from Spock's left cheek and then reaches for the right. Jim goes still with shock as Spock leans into the touch and sighs.

"Her hands always felt cool and steady," Spock says. "Just like yours."

Amazed, moving without thought, Jim turns his hand over so that he is cupping Spock's face. He runs his thumb over Spock's cheekbone. To Jim's surprise Spock doesn't move away. He allows Jim to keep stroking him, and he remains motionless even as Jim leans in, using his free hand to brace himself against the ground so that he can get low enough and get the angle right to press his mouth against Spock's.

There's no reaction. Spock offers no encouragement or resistance just holds still and lets Jim kiss him. Trickles of rain are tickling the back of his neck, and a cool breeze begins to blow so that the only part of Jim that feels warm is where he's touching Spock. Jim presses harder with his lips and licks into Spock's mouth to feel the soft heat of his tongue. There's a faintly salty taste that he hopes is Spock but might be attributable to whatever bizarre chemical makeup on this stinking rock of a planet causes it to rain green.

A sudden shudder passes through Spock and Jim pulls away. His first frightened impulse is to think that he's hurt Spock, but then he realizes that Spock is only shivering. Spock is trembling as he resists the clacking of his teeth, and his lips are taking on a faint yellow tinge.

Jim pulls his own shirt off and drapes it around Spock's shoulders. "Sorry," he says. "I'm sorry."

"Why do you apologize?" Spock's voice is too faint. They need to start moving while Spock is still conscious.

A guilty sick feeling mingles with the adrenaline that's been coursing through Jim ever since the ambush, and all he can do is apologize again as Spock gasps in pain when Jim hauls him to his feet.

Jim pulls Spock's arm around his shoulders, and they begin to stumble through the woods. Jim is taking so much of Spock's weight that the muscles in his thighs begin to ache after only a minute, but he knows it's nothing compared to the pain Spock must be feeling. All he can do is urge himself to go faster and apologize every time an exposed root or a low-hanging branch causes him to stumble and elicit another small pained sound from Spock.

They arrive back at their tiny shuttle craft just as the rain is letting up and a few shafts of sunlight breakthrough making Jim squint against the glare.

With Jim supporting him from behind Spock manages to make it up the narrow staircase and into the ship and then collapse into the co-pilot's chair.

Once they're in orbit Jim turns to look at Spock. His skin is horribly pale against the black vinyl of the seat, and he's still shivering. His eyes are barely open. The dark slit that's visible is murky with pain.

"Hey. You still with me?" Jim asks.

"I am conscious, Captain. Do you require assistance?"

Jim laughs a little at Spock's question. "No. We'll be within beaming distance soon. Bones will patch you up. You're going to be fine." The first edges of relief start to come to Jim then. He recognizes it not so much as a feeling of relaxation than as a feeling of total and utter exhaustion. He drops his forehead into his hands and mutters, "I'm sorry."

There's only silence next to him for a minute, and he thinks that Spock has passed out, but then Jim hears him say, "I do not understand why you keep saying that."

Jim looks at Spock intently to see if he's serious, but he knows that he must be. He always is. "I'm sorry that I walked us into an ambush. I'm sorry that you got hurt. I'm sorry that I hurt you more while we were escaping," Jim explains.

"You were responsible for none of those things. You have no reason to apologize for them."

There's a decent chance that Spock won't remember this conversation anyway, and Jim's not one for doing things by half. If he's going to make an accounting of his sins, he might as well go all out. So he says, "I'm sorry that I kissed you."

Spock blinks at him and remains silent for so long that Jim stops expecting a response. Just as he's about to sit back in his chair and watch the stars Spock says, "It was not unwelcome."

"Oh." Jim's heart skips a beat, and a slow smile breaks out across his face as he digests that information. "'Not unwelcome' in a, 'I was cold and wet and scared, and it reminded me I was still alive' kind of way? Or 'not unwelcome' in a, 'hey let's do that again some time kind of way?'"

"The second one."

"Enterprise to Alpha Shuttle. What is the nature of your emergency? Come in Alpha Shuttle." Chekov's voice crackles over the radio, and it's a testament to how well Jim has gotten to know his crew that he can hear the panic beneath the formulaic words.

"Chekov, this is Captain Kirk speaking. Commander Spock sustained critical but non-fatal injuries on Mythonszark-6. He requires immediate medical attention." Jim looks over at Spock and gives him a nod. "Beam us up."

"Yes, sir. Immediately, sir."

Jim waits for the familiar swirling feeling to begin in his stomach. He wants to touch Spock, squeeze his hand or wipe his brow, but he's too unsure still. He settles for saying, "I hope you won't mind, Spock, if I say that we are never, ever going back to that planet, but I'm not entirely sorry that we went."

Spock quirks his eyebrows. "A most illogical sentiment, Captain." The knowledge of rescue seems to have given him renewed strength because his voice carries even as the walls of the ship go hazy around them, and Jim can no longer feel the seat beneath his legs. "And yet, I agree."


End file.
